Talking Man

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - IRIS

Fletcher reached for her control lever. It felt good in her hand. She squeezed it while waiting the final thirty seconds before she could leave that damn green planet far behind.

The ship's computer issued her an alert. A signal was being detected.

Probably another message from Aurora, she thought, looking down at her console without much concern. Then her forehead wrinkled, her jaw tightened and her every muscle in her body seized. Her heart skipped several beats, but she didn't notice. "It's goddamn impossible," slipped the words quietly out of her trembling mouth.

The computer alerted again. An incoming transmission.

She stared at the screen. She had been so close, but this message she would need to answer. There would be no excuse for non-response, not now. But what would she say?

She turned her head sharply upward and looked out the window. She couldn't see him. Not yet. But she knew he was out there, likely just on the other side of the planet. Merrickson and the Iris had arrived.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. How was it possible that the rescue mission had gotten here so quickly? Merrickson was fast, but that fast? It was unbelievable. It meant losses for Fletcher – loss of credit, loss of respect – but most importantly loss of her chance to open Dr. Shurovksy's vials and have them tested. Every movement onboard the Aten would be monitored and investigated; cutting open the medicine cabinet would be out of the question.

A minute passed by her projected time of departure. What would she tell the crew? What would she tell Merrickson had happened to Traver?

It was the thought of being ushered all the way back to earth, held by the hand like a helpless and lost child, that made her decision. She would not be escorted, not now or ever. Let consequences be what they may; she would return the Aten home by herself.

Her hand pulled downward and she was pushed back into her seat. The ship rattled and those awful metallic groans could be heard from the midsection, but within a few moments they were free of AMA-712.

Another alert from the computer. Merrickson was an insistent bastard.

No, this alert was different. It took Fletcher two seconds too many to realize this alert was not a message at all.

She looked at the readings. Energy spikes on the planet surface. A powerful surge directly beneath the ship.

She remembered back to the energy swell months before that, from a far greater distance, had knocked out the ship's power for long enough to save Traver from her first attempt at jettisoning him. These readings were the same, only now the ship was dangerously close to the planet.

She sat forward and craned her neck. Far down, through the misty green atmosphere, she thought she could see the sparkling flashes of a billion bright points flickering within the surface of the planet. They got brighter as she watched.

This was no time to watch the light show. She took the risk of further strain to the hull and pulled the ship's nose abruptly perpendicular to the planet's surface, increasing speed as she did so. The g-force glued her to the chair and the shaking felt bad enough to rip each bolt right out of its socket.

The ship held together. But the readings continued to increase. Something was brewing on the planet, and when it released all hell might break loose.

Full speed ahead. Fletcher grit her teeth and stared into the blackness in front of her. Welcome blackness. Blackness that was her home.

Another alert. This one was a communication. No time for that.

Fletcher considered making the jump here and now – considered only for a moment: the crew were not properly secured for a jump. There would be broken necks and jumbled brains. What's more she had not yet finished the calculations; she might go too wide and land somewhere beyond Pluto, without the food or oxygen to last the rest of the trip.